The Malfoy Way
by TheSummerNightingale
Summary: The Malfoys have been around for a long time. The same line of blond, cunning manipulators. The same code of Pureblood superiority. The same, unalterable line... except it's not really unalterable, and that starts with Abraxas Malfoy. Four snippets from four Malfoys; four generations until change, and it ends with Scorpius Malfoy. This is a story about change and what it means.


**Written for Hogwarts - **_Ancient Runes, Assignment 9: Write about something ending._

* * *

><p><strong>Abraxas Malfoy<strong>

His father had always said that he was too soft to be a Malfoy.

"Too soft, too _weak_," Brutus Malfoy II would hiss as he towered over his son. "Not worthy of being a Malfoy."

Abraxas had never really believed him; perhaps it was his Malfoy arrogance or his mother's occasional fondling of him, but he'd never taken his father's words to heart, no, not even when put under the excruciating Cruciatus Curse shot from Father's wand.

But it was when he'd accidentally fallen for a Mudblood that he realized exactly _how_ weak he was.

It was her fault entirely, of course. The mudblood had outright _lied_ about her status - oh, sweet wonder Ursa "I-Cannot-Tell-You-My-Last-Name" would never allow them to be seen in public! She had filled his head with fantasies of her pureblood mansion and family line, and oh, how Abraxas had fallen into her trap.

He should have been able to smell the mud on her from a mile away.

But she didn't smell like mud, Abraxas found himself thinking as he stared at the mudblood beauty (another reason why he'd fallen into her trap - could mudbloods even be considered beautiful?) in front of him, crying tears of apologies that should have been brown with dirt but were perfectly clear. She didn't smell like mud. She smelled of apples.

Ursa begged him once more. "My love, Abraxas, I could not tell you for fear that you would-" She broke herself off, snivelling like the impure creature she was.

Creature - oh, Father would be proud of his word use, if he got over the fact that Abraxas had - _previously _had - _feelings_ for one of those very creatures.

A dark ringlet fell on Ursa's face. An hour ago, Abraxas would have used his long fingers to delicately move it away, to reveal the pretty porcelain face beneath, but now he refrained, thinking it was best to have something mar her features, make her look the hideous being she was -

Abraxas turned his face from Ursa and fixed it into the most spiteful expression he could conjure. "You are _nothing_," he spat out. "You mean _less _than nothing to me, you…_filthy_ _mudblood_."

He strode away, all the while stoically repeating in his mind, _Malfoy, pureblood, Malfoy, pureblood, Malfoy, pureblood_. Father was utterly correct - he _was_ weak, his entire being was; oh, he should have been able to spot a mudblood at first sight -

Malfoy. Pureblood.

Abraxas could not and would not ever forget it.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucius Malfoy<strong>

"Mudblood." Lucius Malfoy tried the word out on his tongue and made a face. "It sounds… weird."

"And that, little boy, is exactly what it is," said Cygnus Black, his father's business coworker. The man was very tall and imposing, and five-year-old Lucius had been rather intimidated by him when he'd walked in ten minutes ago. But despite the man's dark appearance, Cygnus Black had a way with children that Lucius had to admit neither his mother nor father had, and he found himself eagerly lapping up every word the man said.

"Mudblood," Lucius said again, frowning. "What does it mean?"

Cygnus Black leaned forward and clasped his hands together, almost eagerly. "It's the name we Purebloods give to the most shameful of our kind - the muggleborns."

He said this word very distastefully, and Lucius mimicked his tone as he repeated, "The muggleborns. Oh, yes. Mother talks about them. She says they shouldn't be allowed to have magic."

"She's right," nodded Mr. Black, and he looked thoughtful. "It was your mother who said this? Or was it your father?"

"Mother did," said Lucius, eager to supply an answer, any answer to any inquiry Cygnus Black might have. "Father doesn't really talk about them. The mudbloods, I mean." The phrase brought a thrill of something akin to pride, and Lucius decided he would use it more often.

Mr. Black nodded slightly, then pointed at Lucius and said, "Remember this, boy - Muggleborns are below us, taking away precious magic that should only be in the hands of true wizards - that is, Purebloods like us. Giving a mudblood magic is like giving a house elf a wand - absolutely disastrous, and yet it happens." He sighed, shaking his head. Lucius found himself doing the same. "Absolutely disastrous," the tall man said again.

Abraxas Malfoy took that moment to enter the drawing room. His lips curled into a smirk as he took in the scene of his son staring eagerly up at Cygnus Black.

"What did you do, put an Imperius Curse on him?" Lucius's father said as he strode over and patted the young boy's shoulder.

"No, no," said Mr. Black seriously. "Just enlightening your boy on some of the better ideas of society."

"Oh? Like what?"

Cygnus shrugged. "The usual. I'm surprised he didn't know what a mudblood is. I taught _my _girls when they were three."

Lucius watched as his father froze, pursed his lips, then simply said, "Ah."

There was a moment of silence in the room as Cygnus Black stood up and faced Abraxas Malfoy directly in the eye. When he spoke, Lucius could barely make out the words.

"You do want to remember your place, Abraxas," said Mr. Black quietly. "You are, after all, a Malfoy. You would do well to remember that."

Abraxas paused and swiftly stepped to the side and began to walk to his study. "Of course I do," he said smoothly. "What do you suppose I do in my free time, Cygnus? Help mudbloods pathetically discover their unrightful magical ability?"

It was the first time Lucius had heard his father say "mudblood", and the fact that his father didn't appear to be comfortable saying such a logical word that Cygnus Black was obviously well acquainted with made Lucius feel some sort of… exasperation towards him, despite the fact he was only five.

Lucius sat back in his chair and thoughtfully watched his father lead Mr. Black away. Mudblood. He said it once more aloud, suddenly appreciating how the word sounded so disgusting - it fit well with its meaning. He looked at the chair Cygnus Black had been sitting in, and the man's words echoed in his head:

"_You are, after all, a Malfoy."_

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy<strong>

"What I don't understand," Lucius Malfoy spat at his son, "is how you are being _bested by a muggleborn girl_."

"She's the teacher's pet, I've told you!" Draco scowled. "She's always sucking up to them, and they lap it all up because they're _useless_, I told you, Professor Snape's the only one with any sense-"

"Do _not_ make up excuses for yourself, Draco-"

"-and besides, she's _Potter's_ best friend, of course the teachers would give her the best grades, Father-"

"But despite all that, you should still be above her!" Lucius said loudly. Draco quieted and meekly stared up at his father, who began to pace in front of Draco. "You are a Pureblood, Draco. She is a… _muggleborn_. You have been exposed to magic your entire life - you should in every right be above her!"

Draco glared at the floor. "I _told _you-"

"Quiet! Your excuses are sickening." Lucius turned sharply in disgust. "Maybe your mother can abide them, but I will not listen to you grovel about your own mistakes anymore."

Lucius swept towards the door, leaving Draco standing in the center of the drawing room, half-filled with shame and the other half bursting at the seams with red hot anger. Lucius stopped by the door and lifted his head without turning. "I expect you to be at the top of your class next year. I certainly do not want to see that mudblood exceed you. You are, after all-"

"-a Malfoy," Draco completed for him, kicking the ground with his foot.

"Remember it." His father left the room at that, and Draco took that opportunity to curse that Hermione Granger for being at the top of his class. He would beat her, he would; he was a Pureblood, she was just a mudblood, he'd beat her next time, definitely -

One year later, Draco and his father stood in the same drawing room having the same conversation, leaving at the same note that Draco knew he would never forget for the rest of his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Scorpius Malfoy<strong>

Perhaps somewhere down the road of his parents' stories and the books he read at Malfoy Manor, Scorpius Malfoy had fashioned himself a false conception about how the Hogwarts Express had looked, but he hadn't expected it to be so…

Loud.

It was the loudest place he'd ever been except for Diagon Alley during the holidays. Owls shrieked in their cages, people yelled out final goodbyes, footsteps pattered on the ground, the train kept on whistling, people chattered like there was no tomorrow - all in all, Scorpius had expected something much _quieter_.

Not that he minded the sound. No, he didn't mind it at all. The entire station was filled with life, and for _once_, Scorpius was in the middle of it.

He was so enraptured by the bustling people that when his father suddenly stopped walking, Scorpius almost barged straight into him.

Draco Malfoy turned just as Scorpius regained his balance, and regarded his son with a look one could only call proud in his eye. "Here's where you get on," he said briskly, gesturing to a set of steps. "You go through there and-"

"I know, Dad."

"And when you get to Hogwarts, remember that you're going in the boats, not the-"

"Not the carriages, I know, Dad."

"Oh, do make sure you find a compartment with people in it," Astoria Malfoy gushed, fixing Scorpius's clothes as he tried to squirm away. "Don't be too shy or too aggressive-"

"I _know_, Mum, I know how to _talk _to people…"

But neither his mum nor his dad were listening to him anymore. They were both staring at a large group of people some ways off. Scorpius stood on his toes to see who they were staring at. He could make out red hair - lots of it - and a few Hogwarts students about his age, and a tall man with his arm around a bushy-haired woman, and another man with dark black hair - Scorpius's mouth dropped open and he peered closer - yes, that was Harry Potter, _the _Harry Potter, and all that red hair must belong to the Weasleys…

Scorpius watched as his father exchanged a nod with the group, and observed as the tall redhaired man leaned down to talk to one of the girls -

"Scorpius."

His father's hand gently dropped on his shoulder; it was his gesture that this was a father-to-son conversation, something that they often had. Scorpius saw his mother hastily trying to busy herself with his luggage as he looked up at his father.

"That was Harry Potter, right?" he asked, unable to keep the eagerness and awe out of his voice. "I'd forgotten, he has a boy in my year, right?"

His father nodded stiffly. "Albus Potter. And there's also the Weasley girl." He looked very uncomfortable as he shifted from one foot to another. Scorpius waited for him to say something, hoping he would do so quickly; it was two minutes until eleven, and people (including Albus Potter and the Weasley) were rushing on the train.

"Don't worry, Dad," he said, filling in the silence as he reached for his luggage. "I won't talk to him. Potter, I mean."

His dad twitched. "I didn't mean that."

"I won't talk to the girl either," Scorpius promised, beginning to pull on his trunk towards the train.

"No, Scorpius-"

"Don't worry, Dad." Scorpius stopped pulling and stared his father straight in the eye. Their eyes matched - the same Malfoy grey that his grandfather had, his great grandfather had had, and so on. "I know."

The unspoken words of what exactly he knew hung between them as Scorpius offered a small smile and hugged his parents. With their help, he heaved the luggage onto the steps and boarded, looking down at them. There was only one minute until the train left and he looked imploringly at his father, who looked on the brink of saying something. "Don't mean to rush you, Father, but the train's just about to leave… You could tell write it to me, you know..."

"I…" Draco Malfoy's mouth opened and closed again. "I… Scorpius, you misinterpreted what, er, I was going to say. It's just, well-" He leaned in, looking very uncomfortable, and Astoria stepped back a few steps. He let out a long breath and said very quickly and very stiffly, "When you're at Hogwarts, do not feel the need to avoid anyone, whoever they are, and I'm not just talking about Potter or Weasley, but do not feel inclined to… _keep_ from them…" He trailed off awkwardly, shutting the train door and stepping back, avoiding Scorpius's eyes.

They were wide and disbelieving, as his open mouth portrayed, and Scorpius himself looked on the brink of falling off the train for how shocked he was. "Dad-" he began, but at that moment, the clock struck eleven and the train began to inch out of the station.

"I just thought I should tell you," muttered Draco, and Scorpius saw his mother wink at him as she put a hand on his dad's arm.

Still gaping like a goldfish, Scorpius said faintly, "Oh… er, well, thanks, Dad. I'll - I'll write to you both -"

And then the train was pulling away, and after a chaotic minute, the train was out of the station and Scorpius was waving his final goodbyes to his parents before the train rounded a corner and his father's blond hair and mother's curly brown hair disappeared from sight.

Scorpius stood by the door, stunned, for a moment longer before turning and making his way down the narrow halls of the train. The compartments were all full until he got to one that only appeared to have three people in it.

Relieved that he wouldn't have to spend the next eight hours standing, Scorpius slipped into the half-empty compartment. He pulled his luggage in and found himself staring in the faces of Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and a boy with mousy-looking hair.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and the Weasley and the Potter exchanged wary looks that were not lost on Scorpius, who was beginning to think that perhaps standing would be a better alternative than this awkward interaction.

"Er, hello," said the mousy boy, standing up.

Scorpius came to his senses. "Oh, hello. I was - well, see, there's no more spaces anywhere else, so I was wondering if I could sit here?" He nervously pulled his luggage in front of him and fiddled with the handle.

Maybe the mousy boy hadn't gotten the memo, but he just grinned widely and said, "Sure. That is" - he glanced to either side of him - "if you guys don't mind."

Albus Potter and Rose Weasley gaped a little, but they must have at least been brought up well because the girl said hesitantly, "Well, okay, yes. Sure." She offered a small smile and nudged Potter.

"Oh. Yeah, 'course. Sit down."

After Scorpius had gotten settled in and they all sat down again, a tense silence ensued.

"So…" said the mousy boy. "I'm Leo Finnigan."

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Leo's eyes widened at his last name, just as Scorpius expected him to. Rose and Albus shared another of their glances, precisely as he'd expected _them_ to do.

"Rose Weasley," said the redhead carefully, which meant that she was perfectly aware he already knew that.

"Albus Potter." Albus bit his lip, then stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said slowly.

Scorpius stared at the proffered hand, his mouth slightly parted as he remembered his father's words, and then his arm was extending and hand clasping around Potter's-

"Yeah," Scorpius said as he shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

And as the four shared hesitant smiles, Scorpius knew - he just _knew_ - that this was the right thing to do, that this was what his father (despite his inability to find the words) had meant, that this… _this_ was exactly what was right.

This was the end of the dark era. This was the beginning of a new page.

This was what the new Malfoy generation was going to be like, and Scorpius would make it right.

* * *

><p><strong>Well this certainly turned out a lot longer than I expected it to, especially Scorpius's part. And the end might have been a tad dramatized, but hey, Malfoys are arguably dramatic, right? :P Anyway, the Malfoys intrigue me and writing this definitely made me think about the lives of Abraxas and Scorpius... like how was Scorpius even brought up? What was he like?<br>**

**But enough of my odd rambles. I hope you enjoyed!**

**xo, Summer**


End file.
